Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Ethiopia and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1966 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing the Normal to the rap kids.
I played it at Trash.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by Crooked Eye. All the underground hits.
All Gary Puckett & The Union Gap tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Detroit Cobras record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Youth Brigade record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
K-Klass,
Derrick Morgan,
Anthony Braxton,
Erasure,
Urselle,
Moby Grape,
Chrome,
Cluster,
Rhythm & Sound,
Gil Scott Heron,
Eli Mardock,
Sonic Youth,
Barclay James Harvest,
Unrelated Segments,
Ultravox,
Rekid,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Stockholm Monsters,
Grey Daturas,
Lightning Bolt,
Amazonics,
The Grass Roots,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Jeru the Damaja,
Alton Ellis,
The Monks,
Fela Kuti,
The Red Krayola,
a-ha,
Anakelly,
The Count Five,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The J.B.'s,
Glenn Branca,
Ohio Players,
Bauhaus,
Skarface,
Black Sheep,
David McCallum,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Matthew Bourne,
David Bowie,
Crooked Eye,
Ultimate Spinach,
Black Pus,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
June of 44,
Derrick May,
MDC,
Mandrill,
New York Dolls,
Visage,
The Index,
Freddie Wadling,
The Music Machine,
Donny Hathaway,
Sound Behaviour,
Boredoms,
China Crisis, China Crisis, China Crisis, China Crisis.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.